Chapter 3

　　I thought I was getting better, just like he said…

　　Was she going crazy again, just like in high school? The suffocating loneliness of the empty apartment was terrifying. The untouched suitcase suddenly rattled, and Muhee shot up from her seat in a reflexive jolt of panic. She violently shook off the hand gripping her ankle and scrambled for the front door.

　　Rattle.

　　Behind her, as she fumbled with the lock, she heard the wet slap of bare feet approaching. One step. Two steps. Her hands grew more frantic, her fingers clumsy on the lock.

　　Damn it, damn it! Just open!

　　She had never reacted to any ghost other than the big one. What would these malicious spirits do, now that she was broadcasting her awareness, her desperate attempt to escape?

　　The door flew open. As morning sunlight flooded the entryway, her hair was violently yanked back.

　　"Argh!"

　　A sharp cry escaped her lips. The door she’d let go of began to swing shut. No, no, she thought, her eyes wide with despair.

　　Just as the grip on her hair was about to tighten, a large hand shot through the closing gap. The door swung wide open, revealing an unfamiliar man. He, who had just called out "Muhyeok?" uncertainly, now locked eyes with Muhee as she stumbled backward and landed hard on the floor.

　　The entity that had been pulling her hair was gone. The man looked down at her, his face marked with confusion. Her eyes were red-rimmed and wild. He was neatly dressed in an ivory-colored shirt and black slacks.

　　As she took in his features, horror slowly dawned in Muhee’s eyes.

　　A familiar face.

　　It was the murderer from her dream.

　　"Excuse me, are you okay?" he asked, his voice gentle. "Oh, I’m so sorry. The door was ajar, so I thought it was my friend. I didn’t realize he had a guest."

　　He reached out a hand to help her up, then quickly retracted it, as if worried he might be overstepping. He flushed, his next words tumbling out like an excuse, lending him an air of innocence.

　　"Um… should I just leave?"

　　Troubled by her lack of response, the man took a hesitant step back. Muhee clutched her head, her mind reeling in agony. She had been so focused on the victim in her dream that she hadn’t gotten a clear look at the killer. So why, the moment she saw this man, was she so certain it was him?

　　Amid the chaos in her head, one thing snagged her attention: he had called her brother’s name with such familiarity. He must be Muhyeok’s friend, here for a visit. A murderer for a friend. Muhee opened her mouth, then faltered, too perplexed to form a question.

　　She lowered her hands from her head. She couldn’t just blurt out the crazy thoughts in her head. Right now, the most important thing was not being alone. It was bright outside, and Muhyeok would be back soon.

　　She shook her head as calmly as she could and stepped out into the hallway. She couldn’t bear to be in that small apartment with a potential murderer, but she was even more terrified of being left alone with the ghosts. She slid down the hallway wall, the man’s bewilderment palpable.

　　Calm down. A dream isn’t reality.

　　It was shocking to meet someone from a dream, but that wasn’t proof he was a killer. It had to be a coincidence. She fought to hold onto the thought through the mental mayhem.

　　She’d rushed out so fast she hadn’t even put on shoes. Now, a pair of men’s shoes, far too large for her, were carefully placed in front of her bare feet. She looked up with a frown to see the man avoiding her gaze, his expression awkward.

　　"Uh, I’m guessing you ran out because I startled you," he said. "It’s cold, so you should at least wear these."

　　"…I’m fine."

　　"Still, I’m really sorry. I thought Muhyeok was alone… You must have been terrified, a strange man suddenly trying to come in. I’m not a weirdo, I promise. I’m his coworker. I can call him right now to prove it, if you want."

　　Muhee just stared at him. He seemed so desperate to prove his innocence, with a radiant, harmless face that made it impossible to picture him as a killer. He seemed kind, like someone who was doted on.

　　"…I’m fine," she repeated, like a parrot.

　　Still, the sunlit hallway wasn’t so frightening. A sliver of complacency crept in. Even if he were a murderer, he wouldn’t kill her here, not with security cameras everywhere.

　　Besides, it was just a dream. She grimaced, remembering how she’d caused a scene in high school, convinced a dream was real, only to cause her family so much pain when it turned out to be false. She winced at the memory.

　　Sensing she didn’t want to talk, the man quietly sat down, leaving a gap between them. It was a ridiculous sight, a man and a woman squatting on either side of a doorway, sitting in silence.

　　The quiet was broken by Muhyeok’s return, a convenience store bag in his hand.

　　"What is this? You’re here already?" he asked, his gaze flicking between them. "Muhee, why are you outside? And barefoot? And you, why are your shoes off?"

　　He looked down at them, utterly baffled. Muhee just lowered her head. The man glanced nervously at her before scratching the back of his head.

　　"It was my fault," he said. "I thought you were home alone, and I scared her."

　　Muhyeok narrowed his eyes, trying to piece together the situation. Giving up, he sighed.

　　"What kind of nonsense did you pull? Let’s just go inside and talk. Muhee, are you sick?"

　　He grabbed her arm, his grip strong, and pulled her to her feet. She stumbled, and the guy, who was about to retrieve his shoes, reached out to steady her. The memory of the dream flashed in her mind, and she instinctively slapped his hand away.

　　The sound was shockingly sharp in the quiet hallway. Both guys stared at her. Muhee’s mouth opened, stunned, before she clamped it shut, grabbing Muhyeok’s collar and shoved him toward the open front door.

　　"Uhh, just come in," Muhyeok said, flustered but unable to leave a guest standing outside.

　　He gestured with his chin, and the man entered hesitantly, still holding his shoes, looking apologetic. She didn’t have the energy to care. She had tried to separate him from the dream, but it wasn’t working.

　　Pressing her fingers to her throbbing temples, Muhee decided to go lie down. At least the ghosts were less active during the day; it was a chance to get some sleep.

　　As she disappeared into the spare room without a word, Muhyeok sighed at her rudeness and gestured his friend toward a dining chair.

　　"Have a seat. My elder sister showing up unannounced means we can’t hang out here. Let’s go out. Lunch is on me."

　　"I don’t mind," the man said, his voice laced with concern, "but your sister seems shaken up because of me. Is she going to be okay?"

　　"She’ll be fine. She’s not hurt, just… a little sensitive. Don’t worry about it. It’s not your fault."

　　"Okay," the man said, then tilted his head. "But she looks familiar. Have we met? Or is it just because she looks like you?"

　　Muhyeok just grumbled that he had no idea, reiterating the notion that siblings hate being told they look alike. The boy offered a silent smile and glanced at the open suitcase by the kitchen table. A long, straight strand of hair—nothing like Muhee’s wavy locks—was caught in the zipper.

　　"You must be mistaken," Muhyeok said, his back to his friend as he put a lunch box in the microwave. "You’ve never even met my sister."

　　The man’s gaze flickered from the suitcase to Muhyeok’s back. A faint, unreadable smile touched his lips.

　　"You’re right."

　　He reached over and plucked the strand of hair from the zipper. He stared at it for a moment, his face expressionless, before casually tossing it into the trash.

* * *

　　It was that dream again.

　　Muhee felt it instinctively. The humid, hot air seemed to tighten around her neck. In reality, it was early winter, nowhere near this warm.

　　Just as in the dream a week ago, she was wearing a dress—an outfit that felt alien to her. To see her own face from an external perspective, looking so happy, relieved, perhaps even excited, was simply bizarre.

　　As if mesmerized, the dreaming Muhee began to follow her other self. Her footsteps made no sound. It was the dead of night.

　　After a moment’s hesitation, the woman in the dream chose an alleyway shortcut over the main road, her pace brisk. She kept glancing at her watch, a frantic edge to her movements that made Muhee follow in silence. She finally arrived at a desolate park, where the lone light of a public restroom was the only source of illumination. The woman stared blankly into the shadows.

　　Muhee blinked, and in that instant, she was no longer an observer. She was inside the woman’s body, staring straight ahead.

　　"Save… save me…!" the victim pleaded, but the words were smothered by a large hand and died in her throat.

　　The hand belonged to the murderer from a week ago. Her gaze had locked with the victim’s then, and she had only caught a fleeting glimpse of the killer. But now, having just met Muhyeok’s friend, the image was terrifyingly, undeniably clear. The shy young man who had so carefully offered her his shoes was gone. In his place stood a man with a chillingly vacant expression, as if he were someone else entirely.

　　Ah.

　　Why did her eyes meet the murderer’s this time, not the victim’s? Why had the dream changed? She took a stumbling step back. The woman on the ground was limp and motionless, either unconscious or dead. Unlike last week’s victim, this one had long, straight hair. The detail nagged at Muhee, stirring a strange urge to look at the woman’s face, but that wasn’t what mattered now.

　　"I knew it was you," Muhyeok’s friend muttered. What was he talking about?

　　He swept his hair back, his handsome features warped by the situation and a chilling expression that utterly transformed the air around him.

　　No, maybe he really is a different person, she thought to herself.

　　Muhee squeezed her eyes shut. In the split second before darkness consumed her vision, she saw it—a small scar just above the man’s eyebrow.